Stairway to Heaven
by JavaQuilava
Summary: Normally, Sam and Dean would be torching the bones, but working with a ghost has its perks. The boys sometimes even forget she's dead. But what could be strong enough to keep their unusual friend's soul attached for so long? No romance for now, but possible Dean x OC in later chapters. Rating may change for later chapters.


_**Disclaimer:**__** I do not own Supernatural or its characters.**_

_**Rating:**__** T for themes and language. (Subject to change as story intensifies.)**_

_**Summary:**__** Normally, Sam and Dean would be torching the bones, but working with a ghost has its perks. The boys sometimes even forget she's dead. But what could be strong enough to keep their unusual friend's soul attached for so long?**_

**Chapter One: **

**Damn Car's Got a Mind of its Own.**

_May 27__th__, 2006_

_Valley City, Missouri_

"You sure you don't wanna try and fix her up?"

"Positive."

"Well, alright. She's a beautiful car, or she was. Yet you say you haven't been able to get her crushed, or even try to work on her?"

"No sir. It's...it's got a mind of it's own. The electrical and wiring's gone to shit, the engine was completely obliterated, yet anytime I'd try to salvage parts off of this car, I'd hear its engine rev. Or the headlights would flash. Even radio snippets, now and again. You usually can't even _mention_ scrapping her without some oddity or another going on. I just want this vehicle off my property." Aging hazel-brown eyes glanced once again at the crippled 2007 Chevy Malibu in question. The frame, to most others, looked beyond salvageable. Metal clashed with metal, the pieces twisting into themselves into grotesque puzzles where the front passenger door used to be. The paint job, once a gentle light blue, had faded in most places, and completely chipped away in others. The headlights were unrecognizable. The engine wasn't even worth mentioning. All in all, the car should have been crushed into scrap metal a long time ago.

"I take it this car might be kind of a _special_ case, Mr. Lambert, otherwise you wouldn't have called me. I'm glad you did though. I specialize in this sort of thing. I'll get her taken care of. Now how much do you want for her?" Bobby Singer's eyes didn't leave the Malibu. He had his suspicions.

"A hundred bucks and she's yours, Mr. Singer. And please, call me Jim," the stout, aging junkyard owner answered.

"Call me Bobby," came the scrap dealer's reply. "Sounds good to me, Jim. I'll make sure she's taken care of."

"Thank you so much."

After paying the man, Bobby took the keys and salvage title to the Malibu, and started preparing to load the car up onto the car trailer he'd taken along on a gut feeling. And, as it turned out, Bobby was right. He usually was about this sort of thing.

After receiving an out of the blue call from James Lambert, Bobby couldn't say no to at least taking a look at the "possessed" Malibu. The only reason, Lambert had claimed, that the car was still left alone and not in a crush heap, was because the damn thing wouldn't let anyone near it. No deaths had been caused by this vehicle, not even when it had been totaled in a car crash two and a half years ago. It just wouldn't let people mess with it. It was readily apparent that if Lambert hadn't have seen it for himself, he'd have never believed what he'd told Bobby that day—which was why Bobby had set out to visit Lambert Scrap and Auto the day he got the call. A day after arriving in Valley City, Missouri, Bobby had finally gotten to take a look at the vehicle that, from what it sounded like over the phone, had exasperated the man to no end.

Making sure the ramps were aligned to the tires, or what was left of them, Bobby unrolled the cable attached to the hook that would help get the totaled car onto his outdated car trailer. A hint of trepidation caused the scrap-dealer-turned-hunter to hesitate a moment before kneeling down and getting "face to face" with the old Malibu.

"Might be crazy for talking to a damn vehicle, but what the hell. Can't hurt. Alright now, I ain't gonna be taking you to get crushed or nothing. Just taking you to my place," he quipped quietly. "Don't try to run me down or nothing." With that, he hooked the cable to what was left of the front end, walked back to the pulley's coil, and started the automatic pull system. A faint whine that would have been more suitable from a small child came from the vehicle, but nothing else. Bobby paused at the noise, but when the car remained silent, he resumed loading it up.

"I'll be damned. You actually did it. Thanks again, Bobby. I really appreciate it. Give me a holler if anything comes up," Jim said as Bobby started to get into a rugged, late 70's model GMC pickup.

"Don't jinx me yet, Jim. Still gotta make it back to my place. If anything happens, you'll be the first to know. I'll be in touch." With that, Bobby started his pickup, pulled out of the junkyard, and began the long 6 hour drive back to Sioux Falls.

"Alright,let's get you to the shop."

**Author's Note:**

_**Okay. Short first chapter. This is more of a pilot than anything. But anyways...this little plot bunny popped into my head last night, and I simply couldn't resist. I have SO MUCH planned for this story. I'm trying to keep up with the Supernatural timeline as best I can via Supernatural Wiki (even rewatching all my DVD copies, not like that's a chore or anything ;D).**_

_**Let me know what yall think!**_

_**~Cassie**_


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